Dumb marathon gripe goes viral

There's speculation. There are rumors. And there is downright stupidity.

Thanks to the wonders of the Internet and the social media revolution, idiocy spreads faster than you can click a mouse. Worse, an especially motivated cybermob can turn its collective ignorance into legitimate news if it attracts enough followers.

The great conspiracy theory of last week held that the Dec. 4 Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon provided tainted water to runners. The allegation was fueled by the Facebook postings of runners who complained of cramping, vomiting and diarrhea lasting days after the race. A few, including Las Vegas resident Charlene Ragsdale, said they became violently ill during the race.

These runners are absolutely certain the water they drank on the Las Vegas Boulevard course caused their suffering. Their smoking gun: the fact that water was pumped directly from fire hydrants into large, lined containers, from which volunteers filled cups.

Just like race organizers did last year. And the year before. Without any allegations of poisoning participants.

Yes, our tap water tastes bad compared to the bottled stuff. Still, it's as safe as any other municipal supply, and the Las Vegas Valley Water District tested water along the course before the race to verify that it was potable.

But a few people who became sick clearly needed a scapegoat. Water that's more revolting than refreshing was an easy mark. And so a bandwagon was born, and the believers jumped aboard. Their cries spread so quickly and were so sensational, suggesting that one of America's biggest tourist destinations had drinking water unfit for a Third World flophouse, they couldn't be ignored.

Local TV ran with it. This newspaper put the story, with official reaction, on the front page Thursday. Running blogs and websites picked it up. The Southern Nevada Health District responded by posting a web survey for sickened runners to complete to try to narrow down a cause.

It's the talk of the sport.

But isn't it interesting that tens of thousands of other runners drank the same water while completing the marathon and half-marathon and suffered no such symptoms? My wife and her running club teammates were among the silent supermajority who drank the water, crossed the finish line feeling fine and found their recovery to be quite bearable. Meanwhile, a friend's sister who completed the event was horribly sick for days after the run -- only she didn't take a single sip of water handed out by race volunteers. She carried her own supply.

Is it even remotely possible that there might be another explanation for sickened runners? Or several possible explanations?

This might come as news to some folks -- and sorry for sharing this if you're reading over breakfast -- but exploding diarrhea is as much a part of distance running as leg cramps. It's even got its own term: runner's trots.

In fact, a handful of iconic moments in endurance racing involve courageous champions who crapped all over themselves before crossing the finish line. Foremost among them: Julie Moss in the 1982 Ironman Triathlon, Uta Pippig in the 1996 Boston Marathon and Paula Radcliffe in the 2005 London Marathon.

Dehydration is the dominant cause of race and post-race sickness. But Occam's razor makes too much sense here, doesn't it?

The tainted-water angle has legs for one simple reason: the San Diego-based Competitor Group, which put on the race, bungled so many logistical issues from start to finish it practically invited angry runners to pile on.

The root causes of the race problems were the growth of the event to 44,000 runners -- nearly double last year's participation -- and its switch to a nighttime start.

Runners got cold waiting in "corrals" for their staggered start times. But they still started too close together to create any open space on the course. These crowded conditions, combined with nearly 20,000 first-time participants running largely for the fun of it, made it impossible for serious runners to get free and set their own pace.

The finish at Mandalay Bay -- where I was -- was the biggest disaster. Runners hit a dead stop and couldn't cool down properly. They had to wait too long to get blankets, fluids or food. The bananas that were handed out were green. People who showed up to support family and friends couldn't get anywhere near the finish. Race officials ran out of medals. The cold, a little rain and the event's gear-check service -- where runners retrieve personal belongings and a change of clothes -- drove everyone inside the hotel.

Last Sunday night, Mandalay Bay was a cross between a massive disaster relief shelter and a backdrop for AMC's horror-drama series "The Walking Dead." Everywhere, tired, cramping runners were stretching and trying to find nourishment. It was as jammed as I have ever seen a Strip hotel, and people kept pouring in. A couple of friends said it took an hour just to find a way out of the hotel. Many runners curled up on the floor and went to sleep, lacking the energy to fight the crowd and walk back to their hotels or cars. Others sprinted for the bathrooms.

It made New Year's Eve on the Strip look like the Tournament of Roses Parade.

And this is the short list of shortcomings.

The Competitor Group has apologized for making so many unintentional mistakes, and it has vowed to get it right next year and win back the confidence of runners. They have no shortage of feedback to plan changes. For perception's sake, they'll probably have to haul massive amounts of bottled water to spots along the course.

Bottom line: If the marathon and half-marathon go off smoothly, runners aren't herded like cattle and the finishing village doesn't resemble a mosh pit, we don't hear a peep about tainted water.

And the cyber-loonies would have been left to focus on President Obama's birth certificate, the 9/11 "inside job," the rigging of the 2000 presidential election and UFOs.

Glenn Cook (gcook@reviewjournal.com) is a Review-Journal editorial writer.